The 5 Most Underrated Christmas Songs

The 5 Most Underrated Christmas Songs

There's more to Christmas than Mariah Carey

I love the Christmas radio stations just as much as the next person, and nothing gets me in the spirit quite like a good jam sesh to Sirius XM’s Holly throughout the season. But I can only listen to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” and Justin Bieber’s “Mistletoe” so many times. Don’t get me wrong—they’re pop classics. However, I have a little list of my own classics, and Christmas songs that I see as completely underrated during Christmastime. Check out the Spotify playlist with all of these and more below!

5. Blue Christmas (Cover) – The Lumineers

I’ll start off with an underrated cover, considering covers of Christmas classics play just as often as the originals on the radio. The Lumineers did a great cover of “Blue Christmas” that goes horribly unnoticed!

4. Christmas Wrapping – The Waitresses

I’ll admit that the first time I heard this song was when the Drake and Josh Christmas special came out. So it always surprises me when people aren’t familiar with this song. The catchy melody always makes me dance and it’s such a fun and happy song overall.

3. This Christmas (Cover) – The Summer Set

Don’t be distressed by the fact that this comes off of the “Punk Goes Christmas” album. It is as far from angry and stereotypical “punk” as you can get. This is another one of my favorite songs covered by one of my favorite bands and always gets me dancing!

2. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays - *NSYNC

I’ll forever question why this iconic song is so underappreciated. *NSYNC and Christmas—what more could you want? Nothing. Exactly. Appreciation for ‘90s boy bands and holidays is requested.

  1. Ho Ho Hopefully – The Maine

The Maine should also fall under the list of “Wildly Underappreciated Bands,” but that’s a list for another time. There is nothing more frustrating than the fact that practically no one is familiar with one of my favorite Christmas songs of all time. In 2008, The Maine released their Christmas EP entitled “…And A Happy New Year” with “Ho Ho Hopefully” as the opening song. Give it a listen and you’ll understand the insuppressible love that I have for this song.

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The End Of The Semester As Told By Todd Chrisley

Because we're all a little dramatic like Todd sometimes.

The last 3-4 weeks of every college student’s semester are always crazy hectic. We have last minute assignments, group projects, and exams all squeezed into the last few weeks before break.

Sometimes we all need a little humor, and sometimes we are all a little dramatic, so why not experience the last few weeks of the semester as told by the king of drama himself, Todd Chrisley of Chrisley Knows Best.

1. Sitting in class listening to your professor explain upcoming assignments/exams.

2. When your group project members refuse to do anything until the night before it's due or just show up the day of to present.

3. When you and your roommate try to cook with whatever few ingredients you have left in stock.

Because we definitely want to avoid going to the grocery store at the end of the semester if we can.

4. When your parents get tired of you calling them about every little inconvenience in your life.

5. Sitting down to work on assignments.

6. Your thoughts when the professor is telling you what they want from you out of an assignment.

7. When you've had about 30 mental breakdowns in 2 days.

8. Trying to search out the class for the right group members.

9. The last few days of classes where everyone and everything is getting on your nerves.

10. When your friend suggests going out but you're just done with the world.

11. This. On the daily.

12. When all you want to do is snuggle up and watch Christmas movies.

13. Studying and realizing you know nothing.

14. When your finals are over and it's finally time to go home for break.

You're finally back to your old self.

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The Breath of Solitude

A Poem With A Prologue // Polar Viewpoints.



She smacks your parted lips,

sucking the dry,

open cracks to a seal.

Pumping energy into your chest

and sending a continuous shiver

from lung to navel.

You can't help but cough,

as your lungs tighten and twist.

Ringing the frosty sensation out –

slipping through your parted lips.

The same parted lips that

allowed her deliberate fingers

to crawl inside

where she can escape her own dimension

of solitude.

The Breath of Solitude

All I know

is solitude.

We chat

every day

in conversations that circulate

behind the backs

of the present.

Solitude grinds my coffee beans,

as we sit

with our legs crossed,

waiting for dawn

to explode over our opaque landscape.

Solitude runs my bath,


as the Sun crashes

against the diminishing horizon.

But none of this is reality.

I am above

the dimension of reality.

Not theoretically,

but physically.

I am only a tool

to be used in the dimension

of your reality.

Drifting in and out,

twirling through your negative space.

My only purpose

is found through your breath;

but what do I do

when you stop breathing?

I wait for your fingers,

less deliberate than mine,

but filled with that

that I lack.

I cannot see the blood

that sloshes through the veins

in your innocent hands.

The blood that energizes

those fingers

upon which I wait.

But I know

the blood is there.

It isn't

what you do.

It isn't

the way you move.

Simply put,

it is

the way

that you exist.

The sheer fact

that you have a bursting burgundy waterfall


not only through your fingers,

but engulfing all of you

in its rich,



The only waterfall

that I encompass

is the waterfall

that you imagine.

I have no blood;

I have no way to exist.

And so I

wait for your fingers,

less deliberate than mine,

but filled with that

that I lack.

I wait for your fingers

to filter the heat

to a state of regulation,

a state of production,

a state in which I can exist.

The peach fuzz

that sleeps on the bridge of your nose

begins to rise

when your fingers initiate the flame.

The temperature reacts,

as would my heartbeat,

if I had a bursting burgundy waterfall,

or some type of life source

inhabiting my chest cavity.

As the heat

starts to melt

my metaphorical skin,

I become reality.

I don't have a face to smile,

or eyes to produce tears.

But I have thoughts.

I have words to say,

I have feelings to express.

I still can only drift,

in and out,

twirling through your negative space,

but now spiraling

into your positive space,

as well.


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